File #3
"One… two… three!" Meia and Quatre threw all of their combined weight forward, and up, and, with the sickening sound of splintering wood, the window popped open, allowing a fresh breeze to seep in and wash away the harsh odors of the paint stripper. Sunlight poured in as well, brightening the room immensely, and, with what seemed a joyful meow, Donalbain jumped up into the windowsill and curled up in the sunlight on the sill. Meia and Quatre looked at each other, then started to laugh.
"All right!" announced Meia proudly, wiping her hand across the back of her forehead. The stifling room was already so much cooler because of the fresh air. "That's one window down, three to go, and then – the walls." Quatre even grimaced at that last listing – the walls and the floor were both projects neither of them were looking forward to, especially since it had been discovered that the paint stripper wouldn't work on the walls. That left them with the choice of painting over the color, which would or would not work, depending on how purple Meia preferred her walls to be.
It wasn't going to be fun, that was for sure.
"Let's finish the windows first," agreed Quatre, scrubbing his hands on the canvas work pants Kala had given him. It was truly a strange situation, this – this was his job, helping this girl, his job in more ways than one, and it was becoming more interesting everyday. Especially since, for some odd reason, he had the feeling that the felitty was one to him – Donalbain, of all creatures, seemed to be the smartest cat he'd ever met.
"I'll take the two over on the other wall," said Meia, grabbing a clean rag from the massive pile that Kala had donated. Using scrapers would ruin the windows, so rags and elbow grease were the next best thing. "Donalbain, don't fall out of that window, do you understand?" The felitty was already half asleep, laying on his back with front paws drawn up to his chest and he only blinked up lazily at his owner, who rolled her eyes. "Be that way. If you fall out of that window and break something, you're taking yourself to the vet." Meia nodded to show she was serious and it was all Quatre could do to now laugh at her. Not everyone he knew treated their pet as if it was human – but, then again, Donalbain didn't seem to be just an ordinary felitty.
It seemed only a few moments later when Meia gave a grunt and pushed open another window, this one without the same sound of splintering wood. She took a step back and nodded proudly at her accomplishment. Then, her phone rang. Quatre had become accustomed to her phone ringing at the most inopportune times, as well as her swearing and muttering as she answered it. It was her white phone today, the one that constantly sat in the cradle of the older model vidphone Meia had purchased at some kind of secondhand shop. Quatre dutifully turned all of his attention to his window as she pulled the phone from the cradle and answered it.
"Meia." Donalbain leapt down from the windowsill and stretched, his tiny pin-prick digging into the paint flooring. He trotted over to Meia's side, head held high and his tail twitched curiously. "Understood. So I'm to meet him at seven? Thank you." She hung up the phone and replaced it on the cradle. There was a momentary silence, then Meia heaved a sigh. "I hate blind dates." Quatre smirked, but said nothing – Meia, for all that she was, was a horrible liar. He'd known her secret almost as long as she had, hence why he just happened to be in the area where she was stationed. No, Meia wasn't the only one "on in the inside" of the Hill Organization, but, as she wouldn't out right join the Preventers, they had needed to give her something that would keep her in constant contact with them. Infiltration was always fun, or so Quatre had been told.
"Someone from work?" Quatre inquired innocently, as Meia started on the fourth window, kneeling on the floor at the very edge of his vision. He thought he saw her stop, and look over at him, but when he turned his head, she was concentrated on the paint-covered glass.
"One of the office secretaries has a cousin who's in town for a few days," said Meia, shrugging nonchalantly. "I'm meeting him at seven tonight, at a place in the downtown district. Via…uh… Via Ava?" Quatre nodded and turned his attention back to his particular window.
"They have great chicken fettuccini," he said, as idly as she had. Well, well, well, this was certainly interesting information. She had a "date". Someone from the Hill Organization?
"I'll keep that in mind, thanks." Silence descended again and they worked quietly at their respective windows, until both were done and flung open. In the sunlight of the afternoon, it was easy to see how dark the room really was, with the royal purple that coated the walls. Meia made a gagging sound as there was a knock at the door.
"The last tenants were colorblind," she theorized, crossing the floor, dirty rag still in hand. Donalbain, who had curled up on the floor in the first available sunbeam, suddenly leapt up and lunged for her ankle, screeching. Meia stumbled as the tiny beast latched himself onto her skin and about as ungracefully as she should, ran straight into the door. She pushed herself up and, reaching down, all but ripped the felitty from her leg.
"What in the hell is wrong with you, Donalbain?!" she growled, raising the felitty up to eye level. He spat again and squirmed in her hold, his ears laid completely flat against his skull. Quatre walked up to Meia's side and carefully removed the wriggling feline from her tightening grip.
"I'll answer it," he said, "you go put something on your ankle." She blinked at him, then tilted her head and looked down at the rivulets of red tracing thin tracks down her skin. She cringed.
"Fucking felitty," she muttered, shaking her head and limping back to the bathroom, which was hidden by a wall partition at the back of the apartment. Shaking his head, Quatre turned back to the door, Donalbain firmly held in one hand, even while the felitty still struggled vehemently in his grip. He pulled open the door and tucked his other hand, and the cat, behind his back.
"May I help you?" he inquired of the two men standing outside in the hallway. Both were much taller than he was, by a good foot at least, with close-cropped dark hair and scars that were a strange reflection of each other – on one, his scars were on the right side of his face, a crisscrossed jumble of thick white tissue, and, on the other, the same, only on the left side of his face. It was this one who spoke.
"Maye," he stated gruffly, pressing his lips together in a thin line. Quatre stood for a moment, waiting for more, but when none came, he shook his head.
"No one by that name lives here," he answered, though he knew truthfully that it was Meia's codename. He wasn't about to give her away, especially not to these two. Something about them set off that little voice inside his mind that screamed "BAD GUYS!"
"Okay," answered the one with the scars on the right of his face. That being said, they turned and left. Quatre stood in the door a moment longer, then peeked his head out in time to see them lumbering down the stairs at the end of the hallway. He stepped back into the room and was in the process of shutting the door when Meia come from behind the partition, a series of tiny band-aids stuck to her skin.
"Anyone important?" she inquired, taking the now quiet, but sullen, Donalbain from Quatre's hands. Quatre shrugged.
"Wrong house," he said, brushing the fine layer of cat hair from his hands. "Two guys looking for someone named "Maye". I told them she didn't live here." Meia looked up from her felity and stared wide eyed at the blonde haired boy.
"We need to leave," she said, quite suddenly. Quatre had already assumed as much, but her abrupt change in personality was more than a little confusing – she went into an instant whirlwind of activity, digging her jacket from a pile of laundry, grabbing the white phone from the vidphone cradle, then her messenger bag from the table. Donalbain went into her pocket with an indignant yowl, but Meia didn't seem to hear him at all. Finally, Quatre's world-renowned patience hit an end point.
"Meia!" e grtHe asdfjHeasdfHe grabbed her arm and made her face him. "What's wrong?!" She opened her mouth to answer him, or at least to yell at him, when they heard simultaneous thumps that made the floor beneath them vibrate. Quatre released Meia in an act of total surprise – standing behind her were the two bruisers who had, only moments ago, been walking down the hallway stairs. Slowly, Meia turned.
"Telemachus," she breathed, her shoulders tensing, "Nicodemus, when did they let you out of the ward?" The one with the scars on the left side of his face took a step forward and emitted a low growl that almost sounded like her name. She took a step backward. "Telemachus?" The other one stepped forward, as well, his hands clenching into tight fists at his side. "… shit. Quatre, run!" She whirled and shoved him towards the door as Telemachus roared and lunged. Both of the smaller humans were in the hallway when they heard a thud and the wall to their right dented outward. Meia gave Quatre another insistent shove, almost pushing him down the stairs.
"Who are they?!" yelled Quatre, as he jumped the last step to land on the floor near the apartment door. Meia stepped down next to him and paused to look back up.
"Telemachus and Nicodemus," she answered, shaking her head in a way that seemed sad. "Old friends of mine. Get outside, Quatre. They can't do anything in a public place. We'll be safe on the street…"